Where Do You go, Jethro?
by shywr1ter
Summary: 2015 SESA gift for Imsles: in "Child's Play," we learn that Gibbs is "never home" on Thanksgiving. Ducky asks, but Gibbs doesn't explain. Sounds like a job for DiNozzo!
1. The Mystery

A/N: For her Secret Santa gift, Imsles' "must have" was adventure, and she asked that things be taken off the beaten path, with at least three of the main characters finding themselves somewhere they need to work together to accomplish their goal. This picks up near the end of the S7 episode, "Child's Play," mainly to capitalize on one line in the story, but if I have gotten canon time a bit boggled, I hope it won't be too distracting. The biggest change is that Thanksgiving will be pushed back a few days.

 ** _WHERE DO YOU GO, JETHRO?_**

The Very Special Agent had gone down to autopsy to pick up specimen kits for the samples to be taken from Eddie's hands, shoes, and clothing. Admittedly, he didn't think anything would turn up, but the samples were justified to rule out someone with Eddie's connections to their victim and to their formerly shared gang. He also hoped that the poking and prodding might rattle Eddie just enough that he might offer a bit more information, which could then lead to further connections that might pan out for them. It couldn't hurt. And he had plans for Thanksgiving.

Which is why very special Anthony DiNozzo was handling the collection of evidence – at least the front end of it – instead of an evidence tech or field probie. Which, in turn, was why Tony was not far behind the Boss when he'd headed into Autopsy – and why he was there to eavesdrop, unknown to Ducky, at least, as the doctor asked, "Where do you _go_ , Jethro?"

Tony's attention went into overdrive, and he eased back into the still open doorway.

"Over the past nine Thanksgivings, I've called your house. You're never home. Sometimes I even drive by."

It didn't matter that Ducky's voice was low and intimate; it didn't matter that Gibbs didn't respond. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of a homicide investigation with possible, though unlikely, gang ties and a risk to an adolescent genius. Those things would be taken care of, as always, and the perpetrator brought to justice.

But this! Gibbs – _missing_. **_Annually_**. Gibbs, of the "never be unreachable" rule. Taciturn Gibbs; Gibbs of the deep dark secrets.

Tony backed out of autopsy, quickly and silently as he grabbed the door to slow its noisy auto--close function, and took the longer route to the lab, where he knew he could get the same kits he needed for Eddie's samples as he chewed over this new morsel of information about his mentor.

Gibbs, just ... gone ... at Thanksgiving? Where? Tony had been partnered with the man for nine years and had yet to see any evidence of family or friends with whom he might spend the holidays. If anything, a stable of ex-wives and the memories of a wife and daughter lost seemed to force the man even deeper into his basement.

 _So_ , he mused ... _Thanksgiving, eh?_

DiNozzo decided that Big Bend could wait, and that other holiday revelers could have his share of the crab at the all-they-can-eat crab buffet. He was an investigator, and one of his favorite mysteries – Gibbs – suddenly sprouted another mystery.

 _DiNozzo was on it._


	2. The Beginning

**_WHERE DO YOU GO, JETHRO?_**

Although DiNozzo was "on it," "it" moved way back to the back burner, given that for the next 18 hours, they were scrambling for evidence and a way to unravel the case, eventually hunting for a genius kid who had run away while leaving them a trail to follow her, and wrapping up a case with mom and daughter safe and the perp identified and body-bagged to Ducky.

But as Tony wrote up his after-action report, thinking that he could finally focus on unraveling the Gibbs dilemma as he did so – after all, he was a champion multitasker, so he though, and if he sat quietly at his desk typing, even the all-seeing, all-knowing Gibbs wouldn't hear him thinking things through – Gibbs' phone rang. Three sets of eyes around the bullpen lifted to watch Gibbs, warily, waiting as their last hope for Thanksgiving freedom was in the balance.

Gibbs listened silently, unreadable as always, knowing full well how his next words would affect his team, each itching for a few days away over Thanksgiving weekend. He didn't need to look at the three faces watching him to know the exact expression each of them would show. In the next moment he'd have to put another dent in their holiday plans.

...and he'd have a call to make that would be challenged, but understood...

He hung up, the air around him almost thick with both hope and dread. He suddenly amused himself with the thought of waiting just an extra few moments until one of them broke with curiosity – probably DiNozzo – but he couldn't throw that on top of their disappointment. It had been a long few months, and even he had been looking forward to the break, too. Anticipating what would come next, Gibbs kept his eyes on his desk, reached for his badge and gun, and called out, "Grab your gear!"

The groans were precisely as he anticipated – from McGee and Ziva. McGee let out an almost - silent little catch in his throat; from Ziva, he heard her daring, softly disappointed, "Gibbs." But DiNozzo, from whom he expected the loudest and most comic griping, was silent. As he let the others grumble just a bit longer than usual – it was a holiday, after all – he raised his eyes to Tony, who just stood looking at him with eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to puzzle him out. "Hey!" he barked, glaring at DiNozzo to cover his own puzzlement at his second's response as silence descended from the entire team. "Thanksgiving isn't 'til Thursday. Anyone got a problem with working while we're still on the clock?"

"No, Boss." Tim murmured, pulling out his phone to send his sister a quick text.

No, Gibbs." Ziva sighed, thinking that her first invitation to a "normal" family Thanksgiving, extended by her neighbors, might now go by the wayside.

"Nope." Another odd reaction from Tony, although Gibbs would be damned if he'd react. He'd figure out what was going on with his Senior Field Agent soon enough. He usually did...

"What we got, Boss?" Tim ventured, feeling a bit guilty for his less than professional disappointment and hoping to boost everyone's interest in what lay ahead.

"Interviews. Homeland has tracked significantly increased chatter over the last thirty six hours, and tapped the FBI to assist in the investigation. Both were already thin with some other threats, especially in the Northwest, and they need some experienced investigators to develop intel and debrief some of those involved with their latest arrest."

"So this isn't a Navy case?" Ziva asked.

"SecNav says it is, _Dah_ -veed. You wanna take it up with him?"

"No, Boss," DiNozzo answered for her quickly, his backpack already on his shoulder as he reached for his gun and badge, turning back to his boss now with a smooth, calm smile, the one Gibbs had seen him use in a variety of uncomfortable situations to hide what was really going on in his head. "Just as long as no one shuts me in a room with Agent Slacks, we should be just fine." To anyone who didn't know the two, Tony's expression would convey an even - tempered acceptance of events – and Gibbs' usual stony expression wouldn't reveal a curiosity about what DiNozzo was thinking.

"Ziver." Gibbs tossed the keys to the sedan her way and they were snatched out of the air as she came around her desk. As Ziva headed toward the stairs, Gibbs moved out in the other direction, toward the back elevator. "Meet you downstairs."

Tim and Tony, suddenly alone in the bullpen, made eye contact and, as they started toward the bullpen elevator, Tim wasn't quite so complacent. "My sister's gonna kill me," muttered McGee. "What do you know that I don't?"

DiNozzo looked surprised. "What?"

"C'mon, Tony, what about your all-you-can-eat poker buffet? On any other day, having your plans interrupted, you would have whined like a kid missing Christmas. Today you're Mr. Sunshine. What do you know?"

McGee watched as his partner considered his words and, to his surprise, nodded in appreciation. "Ah, you know me so well, Probie."

"So does Gibbs, but he didn't call you on it. He noticed, too."

"Yet he didn't ask. Maybe he knows that's the better bet."

"And maybe he already knows what's up?"

At that, Tony actually stopped walking for the moment, looking as if he'd been surprised into a more thoughtful consideration of Tim's words. After another moment, clearly weighing things before responding, DiNozzo relaxed into a smaller but genuine smile. "Oh, I'm sure he does. Gibbs always knows what's up. However, I don't. Really," he promised, as McGee tried a skeptical glare. He thought about making up some story to get Tim off the scent and off his back, but found that he just didn't want to lie to his not-so-probie-anymore partner. He started walking toward the stairs again. "I just overheard something the other day. Nothing about any threat or Homeland anything, just ..." he gestured vaguely, "sort of related. Probably nothing." He saw that McGee believed him but clearly wanted more. "Look – if it's nothing, it wouldn't be right for me to start blabbing things now," he fudged, convincing himself that it was sort of the truth. "If it's anything, I'll let you know." And he thought he just might – because if there was anyone whose help would be invaluable for tracking down a disappearing boss, it would be Mr. MIT--computer genius. He just wasn't so sure that it was fair to put his probie in Gibbs' sights, too, if investigating the boss didn't go over well. "Deal?"

"Okay – but I'll be watching, too."

"Oh, great," Tony moaned comically. "So much for keeping anything on the downlow." He mugged at McGee's rolled eyes. "So what's up with us helping out Homeland, anyway? Maybe the FBI, they barely have any investigators on a good day, but Homeland gets all the big bucks, doesn't it? And we just got off a case," Tony grumbled, "you'd think we were the only agents around here."

"Ah, there's the very Special Agent that we all know and love," McGee smirked.

"It had to be Fornell, right?" DiNozzo kept going, figuring that it was the best way to get McGee's mind off his concerns. "I mean, have we ever run into something that had the FBI caught up in it that didn't have Fornell behind it all?"

As the thought developed, McGee nodded. "You know, you're right..."

His partner snorted his agreement. "It's not like we call _them_ in for help – and they have a lot more agents than we do."

"Wait – so you're saying you want to call in Sacks and Fornell and other random FBI agents to come help us on our cases?" Tim drawled, the idea amusing him enough to nudge him out of any remaining funk he felt with the call out. At the sharp, silent look he got in return, he chuckled. "Didn't think so."

The two came out of the stairwell just as the elevator into the garage opened, and Gibbs' voice could be heard ahead of them. "Not canceling," Gibbs voice had that not too patient tone they all knew, "just may need a later flight. I'll take care of it." Although Gibbs' forward stride did not change as he listened to someone on the other end of his call, his agents saw the slightest twist of his head and neck, and each figured the Boss had heard their arrival. This time when Gibbs spoke, his voice was noticeably quieter. "I'll let you know."

Tim frowned at the bits of conversation they'd heard. It wasn't like Gibbs to have any plans or flights that weren't related to a case – as far as he knew. Glancing at Tony in question, Tim's frown grew deeper to see DiNozzo's eyes widen, then narrow slightly in thought. He glanced back to Gibbs, stalking toward the sedan, then again turned to Tony. _"What?"_ he whispered.

The senior agent stated to speak, but hesitated, apparently reconsidering, then stepped up his pace.

 _"Tony,"_ Tim insisted as he matched DiNozzo's stride, sensing that whatever this was, it was related to his earlier unusual reaction in the bullpen, and to Gibbs, had his partner concerned.

DiNozzo didn't break stride, but again pausing for a moment, as he had before, he seemed to relent – just for the moment. "Later," he agreed.


	3. Tony Confronts Gibbs

_It may be nothing._

With that text to McGee, DiNozzo got out of his car and headed up the steps and in the front door. As Senior Field Agent – and Gibbs' friend – he couldn't stand by and let Gibbs go off on some undercover assignment without backup. If that's what this was.

Sure, if he disappeared every year as Ducky said, it was probably a visit to a long lost cousin, or a fishing trip, or even a monastic retreat. But if he hadn't learned it before NCIS, DiNozzo had it imprinted into his psyche by Gibbs that assumptions don't mean squat – you check. _Everything_.

But the more he thought about it during their day of interviews and debriefings, the more he had a bad feeling about another Gibbs-crusade brewing, and wanted to at least be nearby if his boss needed a hand. But before he went off half-cocked, and got anyone else involved with his snooping, he was here to gather intel. And when he stepped into Gibbs' house, the sight that met Tony caused his stomach to drop even further in its concern, one more familiar to him than he liked.

As he knew well, the former Gunny, a creature of well-trained habit, still prepared for an op as he always had, squaring away each kit and pack as he filled and checked them by placing them in the corner of his small dining area, ready to go. Tony's practiced eye took in at two rifle cases, at least one of which was Gibbs' own sniper rifle, one that could be used for long range, and the roll Gibbs packed with an emergency kit, stripped down outdoor sleeping gear, hiking boots and clothes for three or four days.

So he was going off the grid again, damn it. Not even Gibbs would pack like this for a spa retreat. No recent signs that he'd been itching for some new payback or self-appointed manhunt – was this some mission for the director? How did that square with Ducky saying that Gibbs disappeared every year? He was nearing the end of his patience with Gibbs' occasional unpredictability and being kept in the dark, not something he liked much generally but really aggravating where Gibbs' safety was concerned.

The sound of movement upstairs, followed by the soft creak of the steps as Gibbs came to investigate, made Tony quickly tamp down the mix of frustration and worry bubbling even more insistently with what he'd found. He looked back toward the stairs with a mild expression.

"Hey, Boss..." Tony managed a light, vacuous tone. "Looks like you're planning a weekend at the spa. Never figured you for that kind of guy, but I've always liked a good stone massage..."

"DiNozzo – " Gibbs' frown of surprise gave away nothing of the slight irritation that he'd been caught. _So that's what all this has been?_ he wondered. _'How did he find out?_ "What're'ya doin' here?"

"I was elected to talk you into coming to Thanksgiving dinner at Ducky's. I thought I'd better not wait until the last minute to start working on you. I guess my gut was right this time, too." He didn't know why he thought the Boss might offer an explanation without being forced, but when his words were met by silence, he managed to stay level headed about what he saw. "Looks like you have an op planned. Anything you'd like to share?"

"No."

"Okay, let me rephrase that." Tony breathed, working on his patience. "Anything you should tell your second in command, in case you need back up?"

"DiNozzo, I don't need back up."

"I thought we'd decided you weren't going to go off on these missions of yours," DiNozzo ground out. "Or maybe Vance handed you an op..."

"Why would you think that this is an op?" Gibbs deflected. "It's not like we haven't been in each other's back pockets for the last couple weeks. When would I have had a chance to be read in on something?"

"Well, gee, I don't know, maybe you actually took a phone call when the rest of us were in holding cells or interrogation rooms over at the Hoover Building?" DiNozzo threw back at him. "I get that not everyone is big on turkey dinners, but your trademark pile in the corner is suspicious. And the rifles," Tony laughed, without humor. "And the stripped down Marine field gear. I've been an investigator for a while now, Boss, and I gotta say this looks kinda like you in pre--op mode."

Even though, stubbornly, Gibbs resisted DiNozzo's pestering him about where he was going – maybe even resented his agent's persistent intrusions at times – he recognized the protectiveness in his second's anger and frustration, and found his own irritation lessening with the realization. He hadn't had someone so relentless about having his six since the Corps. And while sometimes that was a pain in that six, he was appreciative of having such a stalwart partner – and friend. But if ever he was going to let DiNozzo know that, with Tony's mood and the late hour, this wasn't the time or the place.

And so, Gibbs relented a little, meeting the younger man's gaze and nodded once, cooly. "Okay."

DiNozzo's eyebrows shot up, and he blinked. "'Okay?'" When nothing more was said, Tony shrugged, urging more. "And...?"

"And ... I got plans. People make plans. No back up needed." Gibbs repeated, steadily. He paused, then said, "go home, DiNozzo. Get some sleep. We start again in at 0700 tomorrow, and we might get out of there by 1100."

His second was sharp enough to recognize immediately that he was being dismissed, Gibbs saw, and as Tony straightened at his words, more quickly than he did when headslapped, Gibbs felt a twinge of guilt that he took advantage of the man's willingness to follow his orders. Yet DiNozzo hesitated, if only for another moment, before that damned forced calm came over his features, and he nodded, shrugged, and offered a smile. With a forced chuckle, he nodded again. "'night, Boss." He turned to leave without a second look.

Gibbs stood in place for another moment, considering the exchange, before heading back to the stairs to grab his final few things to add to his kit. It had been a rough year on them all. Maybe, when he got back, he'd reassess. His team was as close as family – as close as his brothers in the Corps. Maybe they'd all come through enough hardship that it was time to let them each know he had their backs, too.

Tony moved out the door and down the porch steps to slide seamlessly into his car, start the engine, back out of the driveway, and drive a mile before he pulled over. Grabbing his phone, he typed one more text before heading home.

 _Fill you in tomorrow._ _Pick you up at 0530 – I predict you'll have a flat._


	4. The Recruitment

After all his years in law enforcement, Anthony DiNozzo knew that he was a good investigator. Part of his skill was knowing when it was time to call in reinforcements. If he had unfettered access to all the tools he normally had in investigating a case, he might have been able to do his snooping unassisted, but here, he was laboring under a whole series of limitations: he had, at most, maybe thirty six hours before things would be wrapped up with the interviews they had pending, all of them might actually be off the clock and left to their own devices for the four day weekend – and Gibbs might head off to do whatever it was he was planning. There were serious consequences for the unsanctioned sort of snooping he wanted to do, for someone not skilled enough to avoid detection. And, maybe the toughest challenge of all – he was trying to uncover the plans of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, of the clairvoyant gut and silent tread, who refused to tell when asked, and was most assuredly hiding something.

So, yeah, he needed help. And McGee had already made it clear that he wanted in.

Once the idea took root, it became more and more obvious to the SFA that enlisting McGee's help was his only reasonable chance of working out Gibbs' Thanksgiving activities. He'd almost been ready to drop the whole thing as just his over-active curiosity about Gibbs' private life, despite his twinging gut, until he saw the too-seasoned and spare arsenal with Gibbs' packed gear, stacked in its usual ready-spot by the man's dinner table.

Of course it didn't make sense that Gibbs had some sort of super-dangerous, lone wolf assignment every year at the same time, just when the calendar gave them some days off. But Gibbs didn't do vacations, he said once that he never really saw the fun or sport in hunting, given he had enough shooting on the job, and even Gibbs wouldn't go fishing with heavy artillery. McGee could do his cyber snooping – if he was agreeable – and maybe they could assure themselves that it really was some Thanksgiving family thing or vacation get away. If they found him headed to Baja, Tony would even be willing to believe that he was headed to an armed standoff with Franks.

He would worry about an armed standoff with someone else when the time came.

* * *

It was chilly, dark and quiet when Tony's car pulled up at 0527, and Tim headed out to meet him as soon as he saw the headlights swing into the parking lot – not a lot of traffic around his building at that time of the morning. He opened the car door to be greeted with a cloud of warm air, scented with coffee and hot, fresh doughnuts.

"Hey," he plopped down in the passenger seat as Tony was taking a long draw from one of the local all night drive ups that had decent coffee. As Tony nodded to him then nodded down between them, McGee saw there were two coffee cups in the holder, and packets of cream and sugar next to the bag in the console.

"For you." Tony managed between gulps. "I even got sprinkles."

Tim hadn't expected that. "Thanks, Tony." He joked awkwardly, "you really must want a favor, with all this."

But instead of grin or even a protest, his partner grimaced. "No," he admitted, drawing out the syllable, almost as if trying to put off the inevitable. "Assuaging my guilt for asking you for help." He jammed his cup back into its holder and glanced back for unlikely traffic in the dusky parking lot before pulling awar from the curb.

"This about Gibbs?" McGee asked, low, as if someone would overhear, even out here in the car. He knew the answer before Tony had a chance to nod, and knew why Tony would seek out his help, rather than Ziva's or Ducky's or just about anyone else's. "You found out something."

"Not from him," Tony said tersely. McGee bit his cheek, waiting for Tony to answer in his own time. The silence was more like Gibbs than DiNozzo, and Tim knew that whatever his partner had learned was genuinely worrying him. When he spoke, Tony's voice was strained, the frustration barely checked. "I went over to his house last night. To talk him into coming to dinner," he said flatly. "He's bugging out as soon as we're done with the case. He's basically got a couple rifles, a light bedroll and his go-bag."

"He told you he's leaving?" He thought Tony said Gibbs wouldn't tell him anything.

"No. It's his thing; his ritual to pack and set up his gear when he's getting ready for an op. He's got it ready so he can walk out the door five minutes after he's off the clock." Tony played the confrontation over in his head. "All he said was that he didn't need back up."

Tim hesitated, then said, "well, that's good, isn't it? If he doesn't need back up?"

DiNozzo glanced over at his passenger, his expression urging Tim to think about what he had just said. "This is _Gibbs_ , McGee. And if he was heading out on some lone wolf mission to track down some dirtbag, and he did need back up, what do you think his answer would be?"

"Yeah," Tim conceded, sipping his own coffee and wondering what Gibbs was up to. "But it could be something else, too,"

"It probably is," DiNozzo conceded, then admitted, "I overheard Ducky interrogating him the other day. About where he went every Thanksgiving. That he went by his house every Thanksgiving for nine years, he was never there. He asked Gibbs point blank where he went, and Gibbs didn't even grunt."

"Well, that's Gibbs, even on a good day," McGee said, feeling a bit encouraged. "Maybe he just goes and works at a shelter or something. It's probably nothing, especially if he takes off at this time every year." Tim knew that Tony's worry was genuine, although he couldn't tell why. And there was no question that DiNozzo was almost pathologically nosy, and endlessly curious about all things Gibbs. "You're sure it's not just your curiosity in overdrive?"

Tony huffed, but more in frustration than irritation. "Look, I was about ready to believe it was, too. There can't be an annual Thanksgiving black op out there, can there?" Tim was heartened that Tony had at least considered that he was over-reacting. "But he was kitted out like he was headed to Afghanistan – not like he was going to dish out turkey and gravy at a shelter, and not like he was gonna hit the doorbusters at Neiman Marcus at 3 a.m. on Friday."

"Okay, so maybe it's not a shelter. But you admit that an annual thing is probably not all that foreboding."

"Admitted. But I'd feel better if we could check it out. And I thought, maybe ..." He glanced at the clock. "We'll be there before 0600. If we could do some checking..."

"You really think Gibbs won't be there by 6, too?"

Tony grimaced. "No." He paused, and admitted, "he had you checking into some of the arrestees' backgrounds. I know you can multi-task, McGee. What about making one or two of the eight screens you have open do a search, you know, on flights or date-specific reservations of some kind? You heard him yesterday morning – he planned a flight somewhere, and now he's planning a later one. You check that stuff all the time; as long as he doesn't see the specific screen..."

McGee looked over at the senior agent. "Hello, Tony. Have you met Gibbs? It doesn't matter if he sees anything; heck, he probably knows already just from our conversation here."

"I know," DiNozzo admitted, glumly. "And I know that looking up a dirtbag during an investigation is one thing, but this would be..."

"Stalking?" McGee tried.

"Worse." Tony sighed. _"That's_ why the sprinkles, Tim. I shouldn't be asking you to do this. Hell, I shouldn't even be thinking about doing this myself." He paused, looking for options. "What if you just _tell_ me how to look beyond our usual searches to find itineraries on military transport, or maybe firearm pre-registration with TSA..."

"You've already checked them?"

DiNozzo spared a guilty look over to his partner, then nodded. "Last night. From home. So ... access was a bit limited, even with our remote creds. But from work, I could get more, I think. I know you could get even more, but this is the Boss, McGee, and we're on ... uh ... shaky legal territory in investigating him recreationally."

"Rule 18?"

"Maybe..." DiNozzo sighed. "Just ... don't sign on for anything that worries you. Just tell me how to do it." He paused a moment, still uncomfortable asking McGee to snoop. "Maybe that would be better anyway, if you just tell me how and I do all the checking..."

"Look. If Gibbs was worried about one of us, wouldn't he do the same thing?"

"No, he would bully the information out of us, until we were squealing like little girls."

McGee shook his head confidently, oddly buoyed by the danger of the investigation ahead and by Tony's involving him on such a personal mission. "He'd do exactly what you're doing – having me look into things on the sly."

DiNozzo blinked, realizing that it was precisely what Gibbs would do – had done, in fact, on cases, certainly, and surely he must have done so for his own missions as well. Tony shrugged. "Well – maybe. But I can absorb the fall out more easily than you can, McGee. I know where more bodies are buried..."

"But I can hunt them down too. Tony..." McGee urged, "I want to do this. I don't like it any more than you do when Gibbs goes off on his own. Look, if we _do_ get caught, my being involved will make Gibbs less likely to think that you just went off without due cause – he'll figure that I'm the straight arrow, cautious one, and if I went along with you we must have had _some_ reason to worry."

DiNozzo looked at him with a mix of surprise and skepticism. "I doubt that even if he thought that, it would make much of a dent in his reaction. What if he takes it to Vance?"

A small smile started tracing across McGee's face. "Them my street cred as a bad ass goes up – taking on Gibbs? Vance might expect it of you, but he will be surprised at my nerve. He won' try hiding me in cybercrimes again."

"This isn't a game, McGee!" Tony's frustration flared, after hours of being on edge over the circumstances. "Either Gibbs is off doing something dangerous, alone, or I'm about to drag both into unnecessary felonious activity. You could be ending your career with your decision here."

McGee actually grinned. "Bring it, Tony. Somebody's got to get your six while you're busy getting Gibbs.'"

"And here we all thought you were the smart one."

"Guess you've just rubbed off on me."

* * *

"Hey man, is Gibbs here yet?" Pulling to a stop for the guard as they came on the Yard, Tony switched on his jock-buddy persona for the Marine corporal at the gate, a fairly young guy McGee had seen posted there for a few months now. "Didn't see his car in the lot."

"Hasn't come through since I got on duty at 2200. Quiet night."

"Good." Tony nodded. "Hey, could you do us a favor? We're trying to arrange a Christmas surprise for the Boss – we came in early since it's the only time we could work on it when he might not catch us. Could you just give us a call when he comes through, just so we can shut things down before he gets in? Boss is nearly impossible to surprise, but we think we've got a good plan this year."

The kid nodded. "Sure." He grinned. He'd been there long enough to know the retired Marine's reputation. "What'd'ya have in mind?"

Tony put the car in gear and started moving on as he grinned back to his new informant. "We're thinking about a trip for him..."

* * *

Something was setting off Gibbs' internal alarm, but it wasn't anything he could put his finger on. And that didn't sit well with his gut.

No one in trouble – he was pretty certain of that. It was almost like someone was watching him, but that wasn't it, either. If he'd had that sense before DiNozzo showed up at his house nearly three hours after they'd knocked off for the day, it shifted into high gear after DiNozzo interrupted his packing.

He'd slept alright, though, even with the niggling feeling that something was out of kilter, but once he'd awakened, the feeling wouldn't go away. He showered and knocked back his second cup of coffee, ready to head in 90 minutes earlier than he needed to be there.

But with the interviews eating up the time he thought he'd have before he left, he hadn't quite finished getting his pack ready and his affairs in order before he left. His feeling of being unsettled didn't seem to draw him into the office, so he took the time to repack his gear with the time that should be properly spent on such a task. After that, not liking to set off without having his affairs in order – old habit – Gibbs sat down to write out his monthly checks and get them ready to mail. Even though that made him early with his bills for the month, and it wasn't his usual Sunday evening for this chore, leaving town for a few days made this one of those things he wanted to get squared away. After killing another ten minutes and a third cup of coffee while doing so, he went out to his car at about the time he'd planned to leave, arriving at the Yard at 0640.

He'd almost started to think his gut was having an off day – maybe just reacting to having his travel plans disrupted and not back on track again – when he rolled up to the gate and was met by a seemingly distracted Corporal Hysock. "Special Agent Gibbs! Good morning," the younger man called out, almost as if he was startled by Gibbs' appearance.

"Corporal..." The gunny's gut took particular notice of the unusual response. Normally, the kid was pleasant but not chatty; he was a good kid but the type who would spend his life following orders, not giving them, sharp enough to respond as drilled but not to be among those who would plan the sorties he joined.

The type to be used as a mule for drug dealers or courier for counterfeiters. Easily manipulated, and not too good at hiding that fact.

"Everything alright, Corporal?" Gibbs asked, languidly. At least the kid was only the first line of defense, if it came to that.

"Y...yes, sir," the corporal stammered slightly. "Quiet night. Nothing unusual at all."

Gibbs' gut wasn't convinced.

"Any ... visitors? Anyone try getting in who shouldn't?"

"No, sir!" The kid was alert now, concerned. "Why, sir? Was there a problem reported?"

That response was genuine enough. "No," Gibbs drawled again, as he would a suspect holding a weapon he didn't know how to handle. "You just seemed a bit nervous this morning. Thought maybe you'd had a problem here."

"Problem? No, sir," the kid smiled, genuinely nervous now, catching on to what Gibbs had seen. He was smart enough with that realization to shut up beyond answering direct questions, and waited until the gunny moved on. Gibbs saw the realization cross the man's face as it happened, and saw nothing more that increased his worry, so made a mental note to check with George at the entry to see if anything else was out of place. All he needed was yet another project to handle before he got on the road.

"Carry on, Hysock."

The kid seemed to gulp his response. "Yes, sir! You have a good day, sir!" He watched as Gibbs pulled away from the guardshack and on toward the employees' garage. As soon as his car disappeared into its entry, he grabbed the phone and called upstairs.

"Agent DiNozzo? Corporal Hysock. Gibbs is here!" He listened to the words on the other end and, feeling a sense of responsibility to the agent who had been endlessly friendly to him since his first day there, admitted, before the man hung up, "and, uh, sir? I think maybe Agent Gibbs is on to things." At the man's quick request for an explanation, the stammer returned. "Well, when I spoke to him, he seemed ... I don't know, like he suddenly knew what I was thinking, like he knew I was looking out for him to get there, ya know?" When he was assured by Agent DiNozzo that Gibbs read _everybody's_ mind, and that was to be expected, the younger man relaxed. "That's a relief, sir. You have a good day, sir. And good luck with your surprise." He hung up, blissfully unaware of the fact that he had just put the MCRT's leader on alert for just such an event.

* * *

Tony's sudden attitude change, assurances of Gibbs' psychic powers, and growl upon hanging up the phone brought McGee's head up out of his monitor. "What happened?"

"Corporal Hysock happened. Apparently I picked us a lookout who has as much subtlety as a six-year old waiting for Santa."

"He tell him anything?"

"I was a afraid to ask. Just be ready for Boss on high alert." He went back to his own searches, scanning data snatched by McGee and tossed his way as McGee went back for more. So far it was more that they had eliminated possibilities than found information.

"Gibbs is gonna kill us if he was just going to see a cousin, or an old friend..." McGee muttered as he sailed through a few final sources for travel arrangements, both military and civilian, domestic and international.

"Oh, yeah, because that sounds like something Gibbs would do, doesn't it?" DiNozzo made vague gestures toward the computer, frustrated because even McGee hadn't found anything definitive yet. "Just – check it, McNervous. If he's off on another secret mission without backup, we need to know. That's not how NCIS ..."

"Tony..." The younger agent interrupted, sitting up straighter, all reticence gone. "I checked at commercial airlines first. And I know the Boss wouldn't take a commercial flight if he could catch a ride on a military transport," Tim soothed before Tony would question his choice, "easier to get into those databases without being seen. But look. Nothing shows up anywhere close, but here – he had a flight from Seattle, Washington, to Spokane, and then on to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, for yesterday. Looks like it was rebooked, but just through to Spokane. And that's it." His fingers flew over the keyboard, "so he's got military transport to Seattle. I can find that by tracking back..."

But as something suddenly fell into place for him, DiNozzo's eyes grew wide and worried. "Oh, _shit_ ," he murmured.

"What?"

" _Northwest_ , Tim," DiNozzo said grimly. "What did Gibbs say about our helping out Homeland here, because both Homeland and the FBI were dealing with threats there? Did Fornell or Morrow poach Gibbs to do their dirty work out there, too?"

"There's lots of hunting and fishing up there, Tony. Are you sure that Boss isn't ju..."

"Those were rifles, not fly rods, McGee. And certainly not the kind of rifle you pack for hunting game – and Gibbs doesn't hunt. Not his thing." His brow furrowed in concentration. "Northern Idaho was where he was headed? That's pretty far out of the way to the usual spying eyes. Think maybe there's some sort of training camp, or..."

The elevator dinged.

Both men quickly pulled up other screens on which they were finalizing their interim reports for their current assignment. "We need other connection information, both here and there. Do what you can here, as you can, and let me know however you can," DiNozzo muttered, catching his partner's silent nod of assent. Their time was growing short.

* * *

As soon as Gibbs got off the elevator to find two of his three agents at their desks, working away silently, each focused on their monitors, his eyes narrowed, and his suspicions were immediately linked from the security gate to his team.

George had warned him that the two were there, and had been for an hour. The agents had greeted him that morning, George said, but not quite as usual; the two had been in heavy conversation as they approached him and after, as they headed upstairs. No, not squabbling; far from it, like they were sometimes as they were nearing a break in a case. Gibbs had wondered on his way up what the two might be cooking up – nothing all that interesting or helpful had come of their interviews so far – so was ready for damn near anything. When he found them both hard at work, well before they were to be there, and on their non-Navy non-case, it finally occurred to him. _DiNozzo's got McGee trying to figure out where I'm going._

He couldn't be sure yet, but it made sense. DiNozzo was pissed at him for not telling him his plans – more so than seemed reasonable, he thought – but Gibbs believed Tony's implication that he felt responsible for his six. He appreciated his second's sense of responsibility, but it chafed that he had to report to _any_ one when he didn't agree that he should, and in this case, he just wanted to keep his part in things on the quiet. So he sent DiNozzo away with his honest assurances that he'd be fine, knowing that it would do little to assuage Tony's concern, but not willing to explain himself just to make his mother-henning second feel better. If that made him a bastard, at least he was being consistent.

He had to admit that, as a result, these two were being consistent, then, too.

He breezed in as usual, noting that McGee, while not breaking speed in his typing, seemed to focus a little more intently on the screen, and a slight red flush colored his cheeks. _Well, at least he's getting better at being sneaky_ , Gibbs mused, privately. His faithful Saint Bernard, who despite his knack for undercover could never quite pull it off with him, glanced up as he would any other day and smiled. "Hey, Boss."

Unfortunately, the smile was the same, phony one Gibbs had seen at his house the night before, when he let DiNozzo know he was not going to explain himself. _Yeah, DiNozzo's snooping, and he's pulled McGee into it with him_ , he knew. His gut finally seemed satisfied, at least for the moment.

"You two get a call out I don't know about?" Gibbs stashed his badge and gun as he baited them.

"No," Tony half-laughed, easing into his story more readily now. "McGee needed a ride in. And he was behind on his reports from yesterday, so..."

Tim finally looked up with a frown. "Not me. Just checking the arrestees' background like you asked, Boss. I type fast enough to keep up." His grin toward DiNozzo was smug and wholly believable.

 _Nicely played, boys,_ Gibbs thought. _Good lead-in, DiNozzo._

"Anything on the detainees?" Gibbs asked McGee.

"Not yet," Tim replied, looking back to the screen. "Will let you know, Boss."

"Keep at it." Gibbs nodded, then fixed his gaze on the other. "DiNozzo, your report can wait. Brief with FBI and Homeland in MTAC at 0700. Since you're here, you can join me." While it was a conference for which he might have had Tony or one of the others join him, he didn't see the need to make any of them come in early for it – not their lead, and apparently nothing coming of it so far. However, his second's appearance allowed Gibbs to bring him in for the briefing, and let him keep his eye on DiNozzo while separating the him from his faithful probie, thereby slowing down any further plotting they might attempt. He focused on not grinning to himself at DiNozzo's slight reaction to his words as the man popped up from his chair to follow him. _Not gonna make it easy for them, if they think they're going to try to find out where I'm headed._

It wasn't like he really cared that much if they found him out. But this was something he'd been asked to do more than once, now, and he was glad to do it – more service to his country, as he figured it. He just preferred keeping it under the radar; his team would make a big deal about it, Abby, especially, and he just didn't want to deal. He preferred to get in, do his part, and get out, with no one the wiser. They might figure it out – these were _his_ agents, after all, he thought proudly – but he wasn't going to roll over and let them investigate him without some push back.

McGee didn't dare look up to Tony when his partner was being marched up to MTAC by the Boss. He wouldn't do so normally, and he was afraid if he did so now, he'd give everything away.

The problem was, in the past few minutes, he'd found a series of leads that now gave him Gibbs' current flight plan, and his immediate plans upon reaching Spokane. Gibbs had rented a four by four, and even paid extra for GPS to be included with the vehicle. So he _was_ headed out from town, but where, he'd have no way to know.

Or ... there _was_ a way, of course, but access to the equipment he needed was not quick in a government bureaucracy. Well, it wasn't quick for _him._ He wished like crazy Tony were still there to make the call. He hadn't sworn McGee to secrecy, but Tim knew that was only because the need for secrecy in all this was so obvious it need not be stated.

But time was growing short, and he had a solid set of leads. He knew exactly what Tony would do in his position, so there was really no need for DiNozzo to be there to tell him to get moving. Figuring he had only a few minutes, he practically ran all the way to Abby's lab.


	5. The Plan

Briefing concluded, Tony followed Gibbs out of MTAC, hoping that McGee was able to get in some more investigation while they were inside. Coming down the steps, DiNozzo peered over as soon as he was in sight line of McGee's desk, but his chair was empty. Ziva was at her desk, typing, probably adding to the reports she'd done on the witnesses she'd interviewed the day before.

For any other investigation, Tony would welcome her input, too, but of the three of them, Ziva was at most risk should their little investigation go pear-shaped – she had been rescued only a few weeks before and back with them even fewer; bare days had passed between her pronouncement that she had quit Mossad, applied for a job with NCIS and probationary agent status, and sent in her paperwork for U.S. citizenship. All of that would go out the window if there was any whiff of unsanctioned investigation on her part. Even worse – whether or not she would admit it or even recognize it, these days, Ziva desperately needed Gibbs' approval and trust. Where he relied on Gibbs as a mentor, she saw him as a father figure and, these days, a life-line to her recovery. So even if she eventually found out what they were up to and was pissed to not to have been in the loop, Tony could handle her ire and her scorn – he'd managed it several times over the years with only a few lasting scars. What he would not allow is Ziva losing everything because of a whim he had about Gibbs' safety.

She would, as far as he was concerned, remain out of the loop. He added that to the list of things in his head that he needed to discuss with McGee. When he found him.

"Ziva – where's McGee?" Gibbs barked.

 _Make that – **when** Gibbs was done with him_ , Tony thought.

"I am not sure, Gibbs," Ziva looked up from the file before her. "I have not yet seen him this morning."

"Find your partner, DiNozzo," Gibbs sighed, as if McGee was the little brother he was supposed to be watching.

Which, as Tony thought about it, was a bit too close for comfort. _Does Gibbs know we're investigating him?_ he wondered. _What am I thinking? This is Gibbs – of course he knows we're investigating him._

"On it," He said automatically. Tony had a hunch he knew right where Tim would have gone. And if Abby was there as early as they were, it was likely McGee was still there. With luck, they'd have a few spare minutes on the way upstairs to coordinate.

Gibbs smirked silently to himself as DiNozzo double-timed it toward the stairway. He might be a bastard, but it did seem that his agents were trying to get his six – as he'd expect a good partner to do. He'd let them catch up before they headed out for the rest of the interviews. At times, Gibbs liked to believe he'd made a successful adjustment from gunny to teacher, after all. _And maybe there would be lessons learned for all of them, this time_.

* * *

As soon as he hit the stairway, DiNozzo called McGee to meet him in between floors – from experience he knew that avoiding Abby would be the best way to have all their transit time to plan. He had only a moment's wait before he heard the stairway below open, and McGee came through. To avoid any eavesdroppers, Tony stepped out onto the floor and into the hall, where anyone who might overhear would be seen long before anything would be heard. "You find anything out?"

"Yeah," McGee breathed. "Confirmed flight into Spokane from Seattle, and his rental from there. He's requested a four by four and twice noted in the request that he needed a reliable GPS and maps for the whole panhandle." McGee seemed rattled by the information – maybe finally willing to believe that Gibbs was up to something?

"What were you doing down here?" Tony asked.

"Look, I made an executive decision," McGee started, "I thought it was our only opportunity to ask. I went to see Abby about a tracking device."

"You _what?_ " Tony reacted, and dropped his voice instinctively to hiss, "McGee, you know Abby can't keep a secret! Even when she wants to, she can't keep a straight face..."

"She can, Tony, trust me – and I made it really _clear_ to her that this is all for Gibbs' safety, that it's the best way for us to keep him out of trouble."

"The best way is for me to follow him to there. I'm not going to let him walk into something by himself."

"We," Tim said flatly, "yes, _we,_ " he spoke over Tony's intake of breath to argue, and his tone brooked no dissent. "I'm on your six if you're on Gibbs.' But we still don't know what he's up to, Tony – what if he's walking into a Thanksgiving buffet and country music revival, huh?"

"Somewhere in the wilds of the Northwest?" Tony countered.

"There are buffets in Spokane..."

"For which Gibbs rented 4 x 4? Nah, he's headed out of town." DiNozzo insisted.

"Tony, this is Gibbs we're taking about, not some Annapolis cadet! He'll _know_ we're there..."

"How, Tim? He won't even be expecting us. What good is having his coordinates and watching him walk into a gunfight if we're not close enough to intervene?"

"How does he know anything? Besides," Tim stalled, "why are you so sure that this is an op? If it's the same time each year – and not even the dates, but the legal holiday that changes every year – how can it be an op?"

"That's part of the caginess of it, maybe; it's the perfect un-op..."

"There's a lot of hunting and fishing up there, Tony. That's what some guys _do_ in the fall, or at Thanksgiving. And Gibbs is a hunting type of guy..."

"No, he's not," Tony repeated his earlier pronouncement. "That's the thing! I know he doesn't hunt; we talked about it once. He's just not into it."

"So ... maybe he's fishing ..."

"With two rifles?"

"Maybe he just _told_ you he doesn't hunt. No fear then of your inviting yourself along and scaring off the game – or worse, shooting yourself in the foot."

"Okay! I get it. Look, we better get up there," they moved back into the stairwell to head upstairs, "but I'm going out there, too." McGee insisted. "He catches me, fine, he'll be stuck with me."

"Us."

"He catches us, fine, he'll be stuck with us."

"We'll either help or he'll wish he'd just told me so we didn't just appear..."

"Or both."

"Noted. Can you get us tickets?"

McGee was silent for a moment. "I already did."

Tony stopped in his tracks to look back at his partner. "Tim – " he said, clearly surprised. "Good work. Thanks."

"I'll email you your tickets. I guess we plan around the flights, then, and figure out how we'll get the tracker on Gibbs in the meantime, before he leaves for home?"

"Yeah – and a $50 bonus to the one who figures out a way to do that successfully," Tony added in a mutter. "Look, I don't know how much time we'll have while we're over at J. Edgar; probably none. I'll text you when I get out of an interview, you do the same. If we happen to both get done around the same time we can get a couple minutes, maybe. Otherwise – when we're done with everyone they have for us, I guess."

They got to the top of the steps, and Tony grabbed the door handle. Before opening it, though, he turned back to Tim again. "Thanks, McGee," he said, sincerely. "Couldn't have done any of this without you."

"Well – you're welcome – but let's see if we get it done first." He suggested.

"I have faith in you, McGee!" Tony grinned. "It's all downhill from here!"


	6. Abby's Input

**A/N:** sorry for not updating quite as quickly as I thought - the story is done; I'm just not here as often as I thought. holidays, phew! Two more chaps after this one -

* * *

At the Hoover Building, after the first two to three times Tony texted Tim, or Tim, Tony, they gave up trying to coordinate their interviews and got back to work. Not only was it clear it was unlikely to work out, but they each were sure Gibbs was in their heads, and got cold feet. They also noticed that not only Gibbs, but now Ziva and even Fornell, were starting to give them the side-eye when they all met up to discuss that morning's interviews.

As Gibbs had predicted, they were able to wrap up the remaining interviews by about 10:40. Both McGee and DiNozzo did their best to keep their nerves in check. McGee had gotten them a first flight later than Gibbs,' but with a tighter connection in the middle than his, so they knew they could have at least some time out from under his watchful eye for their eleventh hour preparations. Tim was grateful that his job required him to keep a go bag handy; both he and Tony even kept an extra change of clothes or two stashed in their lockers and file drawers; with Gibbs, it was always safer to over prepare.

For his part, Gibbs had kept an eye on the pair but had relented a bit, endeavoring not to let them suspect he knew what they were up to. On the off chance they hadn't tracked his destination yet, he said nothing – he might have another trip without his team's fanfare or participation. If they did find him and work their way into his plans, well then, they'd play it by ear.

It was apparent that they left Ziva out of their plans, and Gibbs was relieved that they did. Selfishly, the fewer who might learn his plans, the better, but Ziva was still fragile, no matter what she tried to tell them all, and her rush to become an American NCIS agent was a bit more manic than made him comfortable. For all that, Gibbs felt another special bit of pride that his two wing-nut agents weren't so hellbent on getting his back that they lost sight of what she had been through. It had been some year.

As the team arrived back in the garage and made their way toward the stairs, Gibbs detoured away from the others. In a small brush of holiday charity, he called, "goin' for coffee," and nearly chuckled audibly as he saw, ahead of him, both DiNozzo and McGee react with the sudden gift of time they received. He left them to their own devices. If they didn't know his plans by now, there wasn't much more they could do before he took off.

They managed to maintain their dignity on first arrival in the bullpen, but when Ziva left to head toward the restroom, DiNozzo hopped up and circled around to McGee. "I'm going to check in on Ducky first," said to Tim, quietly. "Just to make sure he doesn't know anything we should know. Then – we see Abby?"

"Okay. What about Ziva? If she starts interrogating me..."

"Push back. Or pretend you don't know English. You know she can't get wrapped up in this..."

McGee nodded vigorously. "I know. She's just ... tough."

"You're tougher," his partner said, earnestly. "It's just _she_ doesn't know it yet." And as DiNozzo disappeared around the corner, McGee drew up in pride with his partner's heartfelt words.

* * *

Tony hoped for a quick in and out from autopsy, without an audience – though he came up with an excuse to see the doctor if needed. "Ducky?" he called, coming in.

"Ah, Anthony! The team is back, I take it?" At Tony's nod, the doctor began, "I know you had plans for the holiday, but now that you will have missed your retreat, I do hope you'll join us for dinner tomorrow. In fact, I am hopeful you all will be available, since the assignment kept you on duty much longer than your original schedule anticipated."

"Um – well, Ducky, that's sort of why I came to see you." Tony lowered his voice and said, directly, "look – the other day, I sort of overheard you asking Gibbs where he goes every year..."

"Oh. I see," the doctor frowned, clearly disapproving of the breach of manners.

"And, well ... I started worrying that maybe he got himself involved in some mission or other, going off without any back-up..."

The doctor shook his head. "I understand your concern, Anthony," he began, "but the likelihood of there being a 'secret mission' each year at the same time..."

"Agreed. Except I went to his house, and he's kitted himself out like he's on his way to a mission. He's got his sniper rifle and a back up, not a whole lot else – stripped down to move."

At the doctor's deepening frown and murmured, "oh, dear," Tony went on.

"So – that worries you too, right? No simple explanation you can think of?"

Ducky shook his head slowly. "None."

"Me either. That's not how he'd pack for a weekend hunting."

Ducky snorted. "Jethro doesn't hunt."

"That's what I keep telling McGee!" Tony burst, then took a steadying breath and blew it out. "Gotta go, Ducky – but I think McGee and I may try tagging along, to make sure he stays out of trouble."

"So – you know where he's going?" The elderly ME's surprise was clear.

"We hope so," Tony called softly as he disappeared through autopsy's doors, texting McGee to meet him in the lab.

* * *

"Abby, hey," Tony breezed into the lab only moments before Tim came in behind him. "McGee said he filled you in on our little project, and you'll be able to help us with a tracker?"

"Yep," she nodded resolutely, but didn't look Tony – or Tim, when he came in – in the eye.

"This is Gibbs, Abs," Tony cautioned her. "Remember, he reads minds. He sees us when we're sleeping; he knows when we're awake..."

"And Tony, he always knows if you've been bad or good," she grinned, glancing at him briefly but still avoiding her usual direct gaze. She was unsure about something, he thought.

"...so you have a tracker he'll never find, right? Please tell me he won't find it & rip it out..."

"Well, he might. Wait..." she urged, as she saw Tony draw a breath to protest, and in her explanation met his eyes more readily. "I wanted to be sure Gibbs didn't get away from you. Not that he could shake you, if he knew you were tailing him," she said guiltily, in a rush, "or that he'd see you tailing him before you got a good start..."

"Love the vote of confidence, Abs..."

"But this way you won't lose him!" She pulled up a screen carrying a grid and three graph bars, yellow, red, and green, with a side panel of command icons.

McGee frowned, recognizing yet not recognizing the information screen. "Abs..." he asked slowly, "is that...?"

"Yup," she said proudly. "With double redundancy. He might suspect a back up – but not two."

DiNozzo was catching on. "More than just one?"

"Three," she nodded.

"Abby," Tony hissed, low, in case they were overheard – even back here in the lab. "Those things aren't cheap! If Vance finds out you used _three_ , and knowing Gibbs you'll never see them again..."

"That's the great part – it won't cost us a thing, and it might even get us some beer money," she joked. Tim and Tony glanced at each other, once again straddling that line of regret that Abby was read in on their mission and appreciation for her inspired contributions. "Several times a year I get gismos and gadgets people want me to test for them. I think they hope I'll send them out with you; a few times I've given McGee some new toy to try out, sometimes they go to Ducky or Palmer. I figure the science guys around here know why the testing is needed and might stick around for a report back. Sometimes it's on a grant and they pay NCIS to do more official testing."

"Abs – we're kinda in a time crunch here..." Tony urged her to hurry.

"So I have a drawer full of one-off trackers that we've tested that worked better than our usual ones. I hung onto them, just in case they were needed – like, when we needed some that wouldn't come off our inventory? Or didn't cost us anything? Or especially..." she grinned, pleased with her contribution to the group effort. "One that didn't look like a tracker – or that Gibbs hadn't ever seen used before?"

Tim beamed, and Tony growled his pleasure as he gave her a quick hug. "Gahhh, Abby, you're the best," he grinned. "Okay, so how do they need to be placed?" He turned to McGee to add, "we're going to have to get over to his place ASAP and figure out how to distract him, while..."

"Too late," Abby piped up quickly.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, feeling a small panic that their chance has been lost.

"Gibbs doesn't leave for a couple hours. He'd go home first to get his stuff..." McGee urged.

"No – I mean, you're too late to plant them." Abby said, and then, pulling herself up straighter, announced, "I did it."

"What?" DiNozzo blanched, knowing the hell he'd catch from Gibbs for putting his favorite in that position.

"Wull, you guys were over at the Hoover Building doing Fornell's work for him, and I was afraid that Gibbs would get away from you if you didn't have the trackers on him, and was afraid that he'd be gone before you could get to his stuff. So ..." She shrugged. "I went over there this morning."

"But you said he might find them?" Tony dared.

"No – I _implied_ he might find _one_. If he finds that, he'd look for a back up – and I don't think he'd find it, but he might, so there's a second. Those two look sorta like ours, so what he'd expect – just not where we normally place them, and well hidden, if I do say so myself. But I promise you he won't find the third. No one would. It's totally unrecognizable as a transmitter and is exactly where he won't look for it."

"Abby, you're sure?"

"Tony DiNozzo, _no_ one at this agency has placed more trackers than I have!" Abby scolded. "My trackers are not found. Once in a while, they're drenched, by certain persons we won't mention right now, but never found."

"Okay," he backed off, seeing a supportive nod from McGee. "Well – thanks, Abs. You just made our work a lot easier. Thanks," he repeated, kissing her on the forehead, and turned to go.

"Thanks, Abs," Tim came up to give her a big hug as well. "Happy Thanksgiving – and wish us luck."

" _Good luck_ , Timmy," she squeezed him tight. "Call in when you want; and I'll text or email updates as they come in. Don't let him get away from you, McGee."

"We won't," he promised.

" _McGee!_ " he heard Tony's voice echoing from the hall.

"That's my cue," he apologized. "See you later, Abby."

"Keep them safe, McGee," she called after him. "Keep them both safe."


	7. The Trip

McGee made his fourth circuit around the small airport and came back up to his partner, who shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. "App shows that Gibbs' plane finally took off," he announced, "but he still won't get here in time to pick up his rental – they close in five minutes, and from what I see, there won't be any places in town to rent one tonight."

"I don't know if that's good news or bad. As much as I don't want to spend the night in the car or even in here, I wasn't looking forward to tracking Gibbs in the dark, in the mountains, with a chance of snow. With luck, Gibbs will use some common sense and face the fact that he's going to have to wait for first light, too." The military transport had been on time, but Gibbs' commercial flight from Seattle had been delayed – weather earlier in the day had pushed back the schedule along the entire western seaboard.

"So if he's stuck here overnight, where do we go? You know Gibbs won't rent a room – he'll just camp outside of the rental place until they open. He might see us if we just hang out here."

"When does the rental place open?" Dinozzo yawned.

"0700."

"Alright," Tony sat up. "We cool our heels in here until his plane lands, and before he gets in the terminal, we go across the street to that No Name Hotel." Although they had made it in time to get a jeep from the rental place, they would freeze if they tried hiding out in it for more than an hour. "You can monitor the trackers on your tablet?" At McGee's nod, he decided, "okay – we send Abby home and take turns watching the signal so Gibbs doesn't sneak off without us."

"For that matter, we could head to the hotel now..."

"You can, if you want. I just feel better knowing being here to be sure the trackers are all still intact when he's on the ground and reunited with his gear."

McGee looked at his partner, who looked tired and a bit haggard for his worry. "He's okay, Tony, and he'll be okay."

DiNozzo peered up at his partner. "Yeah, I hope so, McGee. I'd be as happy as I've ever been if I'm proven wrong on this one."

"I look forward to rubbing it in." McGee grinned encouragingly. He checked the time, and said, "I'll call Abby and send her home."

"Tell her thanks..." Tony called wearily.

* * *

They decided to wait separately: McGee in the terminal, recognizable coat off, hunched over in a chair sideways, muffler pulled up around his face as if he were sleeping, but allowing enough room to watch from a distance; DiNozzo outside in the parking garage, watching both the rental counter and the concourse through the large windows. "I see him," Tim breathed into his phone, watching the familiar figure striding across the open terminal floor. "I bet he's headed to the rental place."

It was only a few moments later when he heard DiNozzo respond, "got him." A chuckle followed, "yeah, he's pissed. He's pacing ... like, looking for someone ... looking for another company that might be open ... and ... stopping to think. Looking at his watch ..." There was silence for a couple moments, and Tony said, relieved and cold, "heads up, McGee, he's coming back into the main terminal. I think he's seeing the wisdom in spending the night."

"Roger that," Tim said quietly. "Give me a few minutes to get over there."

Tony ended the call and walked the long way around to the hotel lobby. Lucky for him that he did; as he stepped out from the garage toward the entrance, he saw the lanky form striding in irritation across the driveway toward the lobby. "Hang on, McGee – Boss is heading into the hotel." He watched as Gibbs went up to the desk and spoke to the receptionist. "What do you think, McGee? Can we avoid running into him?"

"What if we wait an hour?"

Tony sighed. "What if they run out of rooms?"

McGee chuckled. "I made a reservation in case we decided it was safe to stay there."

"McGee, I could kiss you on the lips. I'm coming back over there, where there's heat."

And in another few minutes, McGee watched his less than shiny partner come back into the airport and waved him over. "Good news is that all three trackers are still five by five."

"Good job, McGee." Tony slid down in the chair beside him. "I'm gonna owe ya when this is done."

"Yes, you will," McGee agreed, but considered his partner, and allowed, "but Gibbs is gonna owe you, so it all works out." He saw the tired smile warm DiNozzo's face briefly, and was glad he could come along, for both his partners' sakes.


	8. Federal Agents!

**A/N:** How embarrassing - due to my mis-numbering and not noticing, this _IS_ the last chapter! (I hadn't exactly read it since last year, and didn't read closely as I posed...) Nonetheless, still, my sincere thanks for those of you who stuck by this story, especially those who commented. Not a very popular story, this one, but it as it was a SESA gift from a prompt that was a challenge, it was good practice. The SESA gift for 2016 will be posted soon and is a much different story - not TIVA, but fun, I think, and I will get back to "fixing TIVA" in _Seasons_ soon. Stay tuned!

* * *

Their luck – and Gibbs,' apparently – held, and they watched from the hotel and, later, the garage, as Gibbs had to wait until nearly 9:30 before the rental place found a vehicle for him. All three tracker signals were strong, and Abby, well rested and four hours ahead of them, was actively monitoring them all.

Once Gibbs hit the road, they followed within reasonable sight lines as long as the Spokane traffic was busy enough to hide them. Once they decided the trackers were indeed still with Gibbs, and not cleverly planted on another passing traveler, they made the decision to lay back at least twenty minutes, as they would be on an open road, likely not heavily traveled, and all trackers seemed functional.

After about ninety minutes, just when they were starting to get nervous that Gibbs would take them right across the border, Tim's phone rang. Abby's excited voice came over the speaker. "He's slowing down, pulling in a national park area!" she crowed excitedly. "This is definitely not a gas stop and I don't think it's a food or restroom break. I think he's there, guys!"

"Where's 'there,' Abby?"

"Sandpoint, Idaho."

"Sandpoint," Tim repeated.

"Finally!" Tony sighed. "Thanks, Abs. Stand by." As Tim cut the call, Tony looked worried again. "So I'm thinking we still hang back and watch, but from more of a distance. Maybe see what kind of place we have and decide how and when to approach?"

"Sounds good." Tony sighed. "So, when we get there, determine what's what – maybe we get a sandwich, some water and coffee? Just in case things are hinky after all, we gas ourselves up while we can?"

"Good idea."

Tony drove silently for another few minutes, then said, as sincerely as Tim had ever heard him. "I really will owe you, McGee."

Tim smiled gently, feeling as if finally, finally, he was a real agent, a real peer of his friend DiNozzo, and not forever his probie. "I know, Tony..." he said softly. "I'm glad you asked me."

The agents reached the area and learned, Abby's help, that the trackers had come to rest in a small gathering with maybe a dozen people, a possible heat signature like a small camp fire, and a few cooling engines. They decided to wait an hour and let Gibbs get established, whatever he was doing. It was possible he was not with the group but nearby, observing them. However, his trackers were suddenly stalled in one place, as if, all at once, all of his tagged items had been left behind – which, from what Abby said, would have meant he'd even changed his shoes. What a time for Gibbs to get – and try out – a new pair of shoes!

Tony let Abby think that was what happened. He didn't mention his greater concern, that it also could mean that the Boss was suddenly incapacitated or otherwise prevented from moving around. Without more information, and without any signs of life at all from Gibbs since he'd entered the national park property, Tony was getting itchy. "So what do you say we just wander up there?" he asked McGee. "Maybe see who's there, what's going on. Without Gibbs moving around, we can't assume anything about what's going on with him. If things are fine and he makes us ... we'll figure out how to make it up to him, whatever we interrupt." As he looked at Tim's unconvinced expression, he urged, "you got a better idea?"

"I wish I did," McGee murmured. After a moment, he shook his head, and admitted, "no."

Tony drew a deep breath and looked around. "Okay then – ready?" At McGee's nod, they got out and ambled up the drive toward the place the trackers still showed live. They walked for a few moments, tensely silent, until Tony finally said, "you know, we probably ought to relax and chat a little. Would seem less suspicious."

"True, but then Gibbs might hear us – it's still possible that we can get in, check out things and get out if it's some big family reunion or something."

"You know the likelihood of th..."

"Aright, fellas." Suddenly, as they moved away from the central road and toward a deeper part of the woods, a sturdy, bearded man stepped out in their path, shotgun in his arm, its bolt broken open safely, but the man had an air about him that convinced both agents that he could load and aim the shotgun quickly enough. "Y'all comin' up on a group of folks enjoying themselves, havin' themselves a day out, and here y'come with a couple pistols on ya. Y'all lookin' for trouble?"

"No, sir," Tim tried first. "Just a visit to the area, first time."

"Oh, y'all lookin' to hike, are ya?" Clearly he didn't believe them.

"Well, just a short walk, nothing too lon..."

But DiNozzo didn't like the look he was getting from the man, and decided to throw the game. "Federal agents, sir." He said quietly as he pulled his coat aside, slowly, to reveal his badge, and gestured for McGee to do the same." We're not looking for trouble, only looking around. If you would just put down your weapon..."

The man lowered his shotgun further, but did not release it, and narrowed his eyes at them. "Federal agents, huh?" He gave them a long once-over, seemingly not all that impressed with what he saw. "Well," he finally said, "we got one too." The man didn't drop eye contact, but called over his shoulder. "Gibbs? I think these are your boys here."

The pair held their breath as, after long moments, Gibbs ambled up. He took a slow look at the two, much as the other man had, not speaking, before he finally nodded. "Yeah, they're mine." Without more, he then turned around and went back where he'd come from, around a bend into the woods. As he did, his agents noticed that there was a young boy near the bend, watching them warily. After Gibbs passed him to get back to whatever he was doing, the child wavered only a moment before heading back behind him.

"Well, you stayin' or you goin'?" the other man asked. "'Cos if you're stayin,' keep your voices down, and no sudden moves. Don't want to scare the critters."

"The ... critters?" McGee tried.

"You'll figure it out. Go on," the man urged.

With a mutual look of uncertainty, the pair watched as the man followed the trail where Gibbs had gone, and Tony finally shrugged. "We came all this way. And he said 'critters,' not 'fellow believers,' so I guess we're okay. Of course, we may need all your Weebelos training on this one..."

"The man said to keep quiet, Tony," McGee drawled.

"Well, not exactly, but I get your..." Tony's voice trailed off as they came into an area with a large, well maintained wooden bunkhouse, a chimney at the far end just starting to emit fragrant, white wood smoke, carried away from them on the wind. Not far from the cleared area, they saw four small clusters of people, some – no, all – in pairs of a younger man or child with an adult. Immediately they saw that Gibbs was heading toward one of the groups, and the man who'd met them wasn't far behind. The child who had followed Gibbs apparently ran past him and on ahead, where he went straight to one of the men in the group and slung his arm around the man protectively, who reacted slowly, but warmly. As Gibbs walked to the group he'd apparently left to join them, the man with the shotgun, still broken at the hinge and carried over his forearm, called out to the group, "listen up – these two are Gibbs' boys – they're federal agents, too. Don't know if they're stayin' for a while, but they're harmless."

McGee wasn't sure what he thought about that introduction, but it was a lot better than the ones that ended up with guns on them and their being tied up – or worse. As he watched, he noticed that each member of each group, man and child, had identical cameras, except one who seemed to be instructing them on their use – and it sure looked like in Gibbs' group, he was the one pointing out the camera's features.

"Wow," McGee heard himself breathe. "I didn't see this coming at all."

DiNozzo, uncharacteristically, was silent. After several moments of watching Gibbs from a respectful distance, the pair saw the child lose interest in the questions Gibbs was fielding, and look back at them. Again, somberly but showing no fear, the boy got up and crossed over to them. "You can come join our group," he offered.

There was something rather touching about the child, seemingly much older and more mature and serious than his years. "Thanks," McGee smiled easily, figuring that he'd have to take the lead given Tony's reticence around younger kids. He looked at his partner. "Tony?"

"Why not? Couldn't get more surreal, could it?"

"Don't say that," McGee shuddered as they crossed the grassy expanse, lead by their diminutive host. The valley and mountains beyond came into clearer view as they walked, and it became obvious why this area would be chosen for a photo safari. "This could have been much, much worse." As they neared the group, they could hear the voices around the circle, and the agents were treated to the rare sound of Gibbs' patient teaching as he explained the cameras' features. Their young companion remained standing, waited politely for Gibbs to stop speaking, then asked, "these your kids, Mr. Gibbs?"

Finally, it came – a resigned chuckle from their clearly relaxed boss. "I guess they are, Jarrod. Adopted kids. I got 'em when they were already grown up."

As the adults around the circle grinned or joined in Gibbs' chuckle, Jarrod turned back to the agents and said, still as serious as before, "you guys should have come with your dad. It's really nice up here. And they gave us cameras and stuff."

"Sounds great, Jarrod," Tony finally spoke, relaxing as his boss had relaxed, seeing he was safe. "There's a lot of great scenery here for pictures." When he saw Gibbs settle into his smile even further, it occurred to him he'd made a good decision not to mention that they all did a lot of photography at work – with his luck, this kid would want to know what they photographed, and he'd be stuck coming up with something other than "dead bodies and other evidence."

After another few minutes, when the group started experimenting with their cameras, kids interacting more with the men who, pretty clearly, were their fathers, Gibbs quietly took a couple steps back and, as things went along with the father-son pairs, sided up to his agents. "So? You found me."

"Boss, what is all this?" Tim asked in wonder.

Gibbs watched the teams in silence for a few moments before he started explaining, quietly, "it's part of a program for Marines with complex combat injuries. This group is dealing with conditions that made family interaction difficult – PTSD or mild brain injury." He paused to observe the interactions with an experienced eye, having learned what to watch for. "Each veteran brings one child or sibling, to reconnect and restore their relationship. While they 'shoot' with cameras, they're in fairly close to a couple of us who bring rifles for safety. We say bring 'em as protection from predators, in case of emergency, but it's more for them to see firearms again, handled again around them in a nonthreatening way."

Neither agent spoke for several moments, watching each veteran interact with their family member. Feeling the pressure of being senior field agent, and the one who cried wolf to get them there, DiNozzo cleared his throat to offer, with a shrug, "well, look, Boss, you're busy ..." Jarrod wandered back up to Gibbs, handing him his camera to show him the shots he'd taken. "...and in good hands, I see. We'll ... just ..." He gestured back the way they came.

"You gotta go?" Jarrod asked, his big brown eyes considering them sadly. "You can use my camera if you want."

"Oh, no, Jarrod; that's really nice of you, but..."

"...but we have cameras, too, see?" Tim thought to hold up his iPhone, waggling it so Jarrod would knew they weren't leaving for lack of equipment. "We just have to get back to work. We wanted to be sure that ... that..."

Tony read his mind, and grinned. "...that _Dad_ made it here safely and found all of you."

The boy finally showed a tiny bit of a smile. "Okay," he nodded, hopping back over to his own father.

"You really want to leave all this, without a bit more of a look around?" Gibbs asked them in a tone that still left Tony uncertain what the fallout might be for their interruption. "It'll be dark before you get back. There are plenty of bunks. You can have some Thanksgiving dinner with us, get some sleep, and head back in the morning if you want." He smirked. "Besides – I don't want to have to come find you if you get lost back here in the hills."

McGee looked at Tony. "Fine with me. Start fresh in the morning, Tony?"

DiNozzo looked at Gibbs, and figured it was time to engage Rule 18. "Sorry, Boss. I should've just listened to you, when you said you didn't need backup. I badgered McGee into helping me out, so if you want to put this on anyone – McGee was just trying to get my back."

"Like you were trying to get mine, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in the same patient tone he'd used with the camera lessons. "I get it. I suppose if I had just come clean, you two meatheads wouldn't have come out all this way to track me down." He looked at his agents – his 'adopted sons' – and smirked again. "So the least I can do is talk you into staying until morning."

Tim nudged Tony, who finally grinned too. "Sold," he agreed. "Put us to work."

"Oh, you'll be working," Gibbs agreed. He pointed them to the bunkhouse, where they'd be spending the night with the rest of them. "Grab your gear," he tossed behind him as he went back to his group. "It goes in there ... boys."

"Right away, pa," Tony laughed. "C'mon, Tim."

"You are so going to owe me, DiNozzo..." he murmured again. But this time, he was grinning his relief as widely as Tony was, as the two went to take their gear up into the group's cabin.


End file.
